


Thirteen Years

by insertcleveruserhere



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Arishok - Freeform, Arishok Sten, F/M, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, More angst, NSFW, Qun, Qunlat, Smut, Sten - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleveruserhere/pseuds/insertcleveruserhere
Summary: “You would kill an old lover, Sten?”Her voice sends a shiver down his spine, the same as it did all those years ago. He grimaces, knowing how hard it would be to face her. He was frightened – if he learned anything while he was with her party, it was that it was alright to admit fear, so long as you don’t let it overtake you. It was a very un-Qunari way of thinking for him to hold onto, but he found truth in it.Her voice is just the same as he remembers it – experienced beyond her years, kind – but now, it carries the burden of years, the fear and the shakiness that came with her travels.





	Thirteen Years

“You would kill an old lover, Sten?”

Her voice sends a shiver down his spine, the same as it did all those years ago. He grimaces, knowing how hard it would be to face her. He was frightened – if he learned anything while he was with her party, it was that it was alright to admit fear, so long as you don’t let it overtake you. It was a very un-Qunari way of thinking for him to hold onto, but he found truth in it. 

Her voice is just the same as he remembers it – experienced beyond her years, kind – but now, it carries the burden of years, the fear and the shakiness that came with her travels. 

His grip tightens around Asala as he turns and sees her standing there, looking as much a goddess as when he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. A silken blue nightgown hangs loosely around her, and he’s convinced he sees no underthings. Her black hair is longer than when he last saw her, braided down her back and tossed over her shoulder. 

“Queen Cousland.” He says, slowly, unsure of what he was treading on. For all he knew, she was hiding an ambush already. He didn’t believe the Warden he knew would, but thirteen years was a long time for a person to change. She grimaces at the title, the same as when people called her ‘my lady’ during their travels. “If you do not prefer that name, tell me what I may call you…kadan.”

“Kadan is preferable,” She jests, trying to make light of the situation, “though if it does not please you, my dear Sten, Danica is fine.” She rubs her hands together, a gesture that hasn’t seemed to change. “Might I ask what you’re doing here? I’m assuming it isn’t a social call, lest you wouldn’t have come in through a window.”

He chooses to lie, though, if he and she haven’t changed as much as he thought they had, she will see right through him. “I came to warn you.” She raises a brow, but he continues, “The Qunari have declared war on the Inquisition. And, now, with it disbanded…” He took that moment to actually take in the room. Danica stood at the far edge of the room, in front of the door she’d bolted shut, and bookshelves and notes and a desk lined the walls. A couch was the only furniture, save her desk. This was her study.

“They fall to Orlais and Ferelden.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’d heard rumors, of course, but never had I actually thought it would happen…” She sits on the lush couch, her eyes still shut. 

“Kadan…” He takes a step toward her, still cautious, but more concerned. 

She had once been the only woman he ever loved. She had once called him lover and held him close, falling asleep with him after long days and nights, and only sharing a bed with him. And they told one another they loved them, staving off the inevitable until the Archdemon was slain. He had to go.

They ensured the memories of one another would not be unhappy, but when it was announced that Alistair and Danica would be wed, he had to leave, as much for himself as for her. The Arishok sent his summons, and it was decided. With the Blight ended, there was no reason for him to stay.

“I’m fine, Sten, just…it’s been so long…when are you leaving?”

“I’m due back in Par Vollen within the month.”

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, yet another habit that hasn’t seemed to die. 

He continues when she doesn’t speak, “You and Alistair have a son…”

“Duncan, yes. Not of my own body. The taint made me infertile, it seems, but the people didn’t need to know that. Won’t you come sit with me?” She doesn’t pout, but he reacted as if she had, sitting next to her on the soft cushion of the couch before he can rationalize that they are now enemies. 

“I heard rumors you were searching for a cure.” He sits stiffly, asala pointed to the ground in an attempt to show his pride, but he found himself weak around her. Thirteen years later and this bas, his kadan, still held power over him she probably didn’t even know she had.

She sighs, “I was. I found it, as well, it seems. Alistair says he has no more of the dreams…I…you are the Arishok, are you not?”

“You heard of that.”

“There is little I don’t hear of pertaining to my husband.” She almost cracks a smile, but it runs from her face, “He told me of his time in Seheron, your fight…I was so worried, for him, for…for you.”

“Your husband…Alistair. Do you love him?”

Her face darkens, and she looks away from him, “I…it is impossible to be wed for so long and to know someone so well and not love them. Alistair and I learned…I learned to love him, eventually, though it most certainly didn’t start as such. I love my son. I love my people. I would die for them, Sten.” Her face is stony serious, just as she described his all those years ago, before it breaks out into a thoughtful inquisitive look that told him she was about to ask him something. “Perhaps I ought to call you Arisho-?”

“Katoh.” She’d known him years, and he’d taught her enough Qunlat to know words and simple phrases such as that, “I…it is good to hear you call me Sten once more, kadan.” 

Her face softens into a sad smile and she touches his cheek, softly, the skin there erupting like a thousand flames. He leans into her touch like a man starved.

He’d denied himself thought of her for thirteen years. Thirteen years of politics and fighting and visits to the tamassrans that bore no fruit with the exception of the reinstatement of just how greatly he missed his kadan.

“I’ve missed you greatly, my dear Sten.”

“And I you.” 

There is silence then, a static buzzing between them. She retakes her lip between her teeth, and he opens his mouth to speak, to ask her permission to kiss her, to let him hold her, should it be their last night together. But then, her face erupts in a bright smile, something he was convinced he would never forget. 

“I’ve something for you, darling.” She stands from the couch, leaving him cold and alone on his spot, but he managed to bring himself back to reality. When had he set asala aside? She crosses the four-step distance to her desk in two quick strides, opening a drawer and pulling a small tin out. Taking her seat again, she presses the red tin into his hands, the smile diminished but still there. “They’re cookies. I can’t imagine you managed to bring them back to Par Vollen or Seheron, but perhaps you can…think of me…” Her face saddens, but she pulls her feet up to rest underneath her. 

“Kadan…” He smiles as he opens the tin, shaking his head slowly, “Thank you.” He’s at a loss of words, and thank you seems too small to sum up just how much he missed her. 

“You’re welcome.” She’s considerably closer to him now, her knee brushing his leg, and he’s acutely aware of it. “Sten…why…why did you really come here?” He sets the tin on the ground, an act solely done to buy him time. He had thought himself prepared for any of her questions, but he didn’t know what to say, or do now. Once, he’d been entirely comfortable around her, because then, he held no secrets from her. 

She was still patient, especially with his curt, short-lived answers. She stared at him expectantly, moving ever so closer to him. 

“I came because I couldn’t see you dead, Danica.” 

The answer draws her breath right from her lungs, and he considers kissing her then, just to see if she tasted the same. 

“Sten…” She shuts her eyes and takes a long, steadying breath, “I want you to make love to me, Sten.” 

He doesn’t react for a moment, just looking at the raw sadness in her eyes. It was unfair of him to leave her, after her family was murdered and she sacrificed so much more than should be required of her. He didn’t understand why her god, her maker, had thrown such a once delicate flower onto a path of nothing but bad tidings, and he wouldn’t pretend to understand it. 

“Please, Sten…say something…” Tears prick the edges of her eyes, but before she speaks further, his lips are on hers for the first time in thirteen years. 

Neither of them were left unscathed or untouched, but they were both saving themselves for one another. She grasped at the armor he wore, pulling herself into his lap. His fingers dug into the flesh on her hips, and he kissed her with all the pent up ferocity he had. 

He missed her. He missed her so much more than he would have ever let himself admit, and now, after thirteen long years of remission, he finally had her once more. 

He lies her down, pinning her at the arms. She’s already breathless, and he thinks to make some jab at her easy arousal or lack of sufficient lovers, but words won’t do then. He was just as ready as she, and Alistair needed to stay outside this room, where he belonged. 

They had to remain quiet, for the servants would be sure to hear or question, and the guard would not hesitate to break down the door, should they suspect something.

He kisses her neck next, and she makes short work of her nightgown, proving his theory correct of no underthings. He pauses, taking that moment to drink her all in once again, and goes to remove his own armor. This was not going to be some primal rutting, not after all this time. 

Danica does well in her teasing, stroking all the crevices only she knew how to find, wrapping her legs around his waist as soon as his pants come off, whispering just how much she loved and needed him. It was proving to be too much, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop, even if he wanted to.

“Kadan…” He mutters, fucking her as slowly and thoroughly as he envisioned. Her moans and gasps sounded just as he hit the right spots spurred him forward, with every roll of his hips and jerk of their conjoined bodies.

It had been so long, but they were one again, two hearts rejoined. 

He takes her in, kissing her often, so he wouldn’t forget this woman before him. He never would, he swore, but to remember her like this, gasping only for him, only being truly pleasured by him. Alistair was a good man, but he would never have his kadan.

They lose count of the number of times they peaked that night, words of encouragement and sweet nothings whispered between them like secrets. 

She ends up falling asleep on his chest, limbs entangled and so much left unsaid, but he lets her sleep, her steady breaths eventually lulling him away as well. He dreams of her, has a terror detailing just when they would have to leave. He held onto her tightly, not wanting to let go just yet.

He awakens to her looking at him, tracing incorrigible patterns on his chest, and he wished it didn’t have to end. 

The first thing said is, “You could come with me.” It was an old argument, one that she used to argue for. 

She purses her lips, and she opens her mouth to speak, then closes it. “I…Sten…” She presses her mouth to kiss in a sweet, close-mouthed kiss, “I have not been completely honest with you, my love.”

Nor I you, he thinks, but waits for her to continue.

“The taint…it is still in my blood.”

“You’re saying…”

“I’m dying, Sten. I’ve had the dreams, heard the songs…I was planning a trip to Orzammar all because of it…the cure…” Tears prick at her eyes, but she wipes them away before they can fall, “To take me with you would be cruel to us all. But…I have one request of you, my love.”

“Anything.”

She looks relieved at that, “Give me a merciful death. I don’t want to fight anymore, Sten. I’m ready.”

“Kadan-”

“I know you were sent to kill me. It’s alright. Just…I don’t want anyone else to hurt because of me, and to kill myself with you having been here seemed…cruel. I ask that you do it because…” She need not explain that, and he knows she can’t when she glances away from him, pushing herself up on her arms. “Please, darling. Live your life. I’ve given mine up to something I cannot control, but you…fight for something you believe in.”

And so he does.


End file.
